Outsiders, Insiders, and Inbetweeners
by Padfoot3456
Summary: Derek's slowly losing his mind. And it's all Stiles' fault. And somehow, that's okay with Derek. Sterek.
1. Chapter 1

Derek looked back to make sure Stiles was still following. Indeed, his mate was hot on his heels. Stiles' eyes flashed amber and Derek's blinked red in response. They kept running. There was nothing but the moon above them and the hunters behind them. It had to be at least three in the morning- no one else was around.

"Come on. The forest-" Derek gasped. He could see that he wasn't the only one who had a stitch in his side.

"Yeah." Stiles gasped back, both of them breathless and flagging.

So into the forest they crashed. The trees were young and close together here, and the darkness hid them only somewhat effectively. But they kept going. They couldn't stop, not here. They'd die. Neither of them had killed anyone, but Chris and Kate and eight others were coming for their heads.

Derek's hand flashed out as Stiles stumbled, catching him and steadying him as they ran. Derek didn't dare look back.

They broke into a clearing splashed with moonlight. In it stood a house. Through seemed easier than around, would obscure the view of the hunters for a bit and give them a moment to rest. Derek went inside at the same time as Stiles did, closing the door behind them as they both squeezed through.

Though the outside was bathed with the light of the almost full moon, there were no windows inside. It was pitch black. Even their wolf eyes could not help them here. Trying to breathe quietly, the two made their way cautiously down the hall, feeling with their feet for safe passage. Though the house appeared to have two stories, Derek didn't think there were any stairs. And obviously it had to have rooms, but the hallway was only a hallway. There was no turn off.

Stiles went on ahead as Derek watched out the door. The hunters were getting closer.

"Derek?" Stiles hissed. They'd both nearly recovered their breath by now.

Derek's head snapped around and he looked to Stiles, who he could barely see at the end of the hall. He realized something. The hallway wasn't black because there were no windows. It was black because it was painted that way.

He went to Stiles, who looked scared more than anything. Derek looked where Stiles was pointing. There was a ninety degree turn in the hallway, and when they looked around it at the end of the hall was a white door. It was lit brightly from inside, and on it in hot pink spray paint was written DUDE, and an arrow underneath that pointed to the left into an open doorway hat seemed to be a kitchen, from what Derek could see.

Derek nodded his head in a 'come on' gesture. They started down the hallway. Stiles' hand flashed out, taking ahold of Derek's and lacing their fingers together.

"Hold my hand." It was supposed to be a demand, but Stiles' voice wavered a little. He was scared.

Derek held it.

As they neared the door, Derek could make out the form of a man, head bent and shoulders hunched as he leaned against the left wall. Derek pressed close to Stiles, guiding his mate around the man even as he slipped into the kitchen and Derek couldn't see him anymore.

Neither Stiles nor Derek said a word, but how cold it was, all Derek would think was that it was a ghost. They opened the door and scurried out, hands still clasped. There was a car. Lo and behold- Stiles ran to the driver's side, yanking the door open, and felt in the ignition for a key as Derek kept a lookout.

"There's no key." Stiles hissed.

"Come on- we gotta go." Derek urged back. The hunters were almost upon them.

They ran again, and Derek reached out because he could barely see. Stiles had been feeling for him, too. They grabbed hands again. And they ran and they ran and ran. But the hunters were always getting closer.

Derek started to transform. All fours would be easier to run with. Stiles got the message and he started to transform, too. Their paws hit the ground, one great big black wolf and a slightly smaller tawny one.

And they ran and ran and-

* * *

AN: This is a bigger story that I broke up into chapter sized chunks. Sorry for any sort of confusion that may occur! ^^;;


	2. Chapter 2

Derek snapped awake, a sharp intake of breath signaling his changed state of consciousness.

He was in his bed, not in the forest. Stiles was human. The hunters no longer had a quarrel with him. He closed his eyes again, exhaling. The fear and panic he had felt in the dream had yet to fade.

He got up, scrubbing a hand over his face. A drink. He'd grab a drink of water or juice or whatever the fuck was in his barely-working minifridge and go back to bed and that would be that. It wasn't like he hadn't had an unsettling dream before.

This one was different, though. He always dreamed like that- where he transformed into the animal rather than the wolfman-like creature he was. So that was nothing new. The forest was also usually prevalent in this dreams, so that was also nothing to be concerned about. But Stiles had been in that one. Stiles had been a wolf. His _mate_, no less.

Derek shivered, pausing on his way down the stairs. Stiles, his mate. He should be shocked at himself, ashamed or repulsed, at the very least. But he wasn't. There was very little that Derek could lie to himself about, and one of them was not that shiver. That shiver had been of pleasure.

The dream would not have even been scary if he had not had something- _someone_- to protect. He'd had hunters chase him before. But he'd never been running with someone.

Shaking himself, Derek went down to the kitchen, grabbing a swallow or two from a water bottle in his minifridge. Okay. Okay.

He went back to sleep, forcing himself to return to unconsciousness. There were no more dreams that night. By morning, Derek had forgotten about the dream entirely, and couldn't explain the relief when he saw Stiles at a lacrosse game, being his normal, spaztastic, uninjured self.

But the dream returned that night. And the night afterwards. And the night right after that. Each time, it returned with increasing vigor and panic. Each time, the hunters got closer and closer, and each time, Stiles looked at him with terror and _trust._ Like Derek could pull them both out of this alive somehow, when there was nothing to do but run.

The seventh time it happened, Derek drove to the Stilinski household at two in the morning and crawled up the tree outside Stiles' room. Stiles was still awake- Saturday, after all, and was watching something on Netflix on his computer and texting simultaneously. His window was open a hair, but Derek did not take the invitation. He watched silently long enough to assure himself that his dreams were only dreams and therefore not based on fact before leaving again.

He was back the next night. He stayed outside until the pounding of his heart calmed and his breathing slowed. Stiles was asleep, and Derek couldn't see him from where he was outside, but he could hear Stiles' heartbeat a little and it was steady and even and Derek felt like he could breathe again.

Derek made himself stay away on the full moon. There was no telling what the wolf would do due to the dreams. So even when he awoke in a cold sweat and a whimper on his lips, he didn't move from the bed. Every muscle was taught, his legs tangled in his sheets, his claws fisted in them. He stared up at the hole in his roof, at the stars, until morning light dawned on his face.

Only then did the panicking wolf ebb away and leave Derek completely in control. He groaned as he moved- he must have been in the same stressed position for hours, judging by the way his muscles ached. That was okay. It kept him human.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like he'd been hit by a bus. Derek grunted at his reflection, getting off the bed and launching into his morning routine- run, stretch, pushups, sit ups, pull ups, breakfast. Except he was out of granola bars which was pretty much the only thing he could stomach in the morning. So he was forced to shower (cold) and go to the grocery store.

Derek couldn't stop glancing at himself in the mirror as he drove, simply because he didn't look like himself anymore. He was paler than usual, his cheeks more sallow, circles under his eyes darker and his eyes redder. He was losing too much sleep. Derek tightened his hands on the wheel and drove a little faster.

At the store, Derek successfully distracted himself from what all had been happening by concentrating on which brand was healthier and what flavors there were. Of course to anyone else it would look like he was just standing there with his hands in his pockets, glaring at the selection of poor innocent granola in bar form.

Which, essentially, he _was_ doing. But he was also concentrating on smelling the differences between the products which was very, very hard in the current setting and warranted a concentrated glare.

So successfully concentrated was he on this that he didn't notice Stiles coming around the corner until the kid was literally right next to him. Or behind him, rather.

"What defenseless breakfast cereal got on your bad side this morning?" Stiles asked dubiously, putting a foot up on the undercarriage of his cart and resting his forearms on the handle. He leaned forward until his other foot left the ground and he could carefully balance and see over Derek's shoulder.

"What are you doing here, Stiles? It's a Monday." Derek shot back accusingly.

As if it were Stiles' fault for Derek's disrupted sleeping habits and weird dreams and even weirder feelings. If only it were that simple.

"Spring break, Sourwolf. I'm grocery shopping, what's it look like?" Stiles gestured to his mostly filled cart proudly, grinning widely.

"…" Derek didn't have a good comeback lined up, so he just scowled instead.

"I like Quaker ones, with the raisins and chocolate." Stiles said off-handedly, getting back off the cart.

Derek snatched up that box, holding it as steadily as he could, his hands had taken to shaking from lack of actual sleep. Easy to hide if he clenched his fists, but not so easy when he was holding something.

Turned out it didn't matter. Stiles wasn't even paying attention. He kept up a steady stream of chatter the whole way through the store, to which Derek only had to grunt or nod or glance at him to keep him talking. And Stiles never ran out of something to talk about. Derek was actually amused as Stiles complained about old ladies in the aisles who couldn't decide what they wanted and people who couldn't keep their children quiet and not touching anything.

"Is your dad here?" Derek asked suddenly. He hadn't seen the man at all.

"Nah. He's got his health to take care of but when he grocery shops, he gets all the wrong stuff for himself." Stiles rolled his eyes. "So he just gives me his credit card and I buy us food." He shrugged.

Derek stared. That was kind of endearing. And… Sweet. The way he talked about his family. Derek wished he could do the same. Just talk talk talk and get it all out and get this weight off of himself that he'd been carrying for so long.

But there was no one to talk to. No one who would listen. No one who, at this point, would care. And the words would never come, anyway. Derek was not a talker and he never had been. Things like that- like family- they were too hard to say. Most days they were too hard to even think about. So Derek always pushed it away. _Later, later. I'll think about it later._

That '_later_' still hadn't come.

"Houston to Space Cadet, do you copy?" Stiles was waving a hand in his face. "Come in, Cadet Hale."

Derek blinked and growled. "What?" He snapped.

"It's your turn in line." Stiles pointed.

Derek glared again before buying his damn granola bars and leaving the store. He couldn't be around Stiles. Not right now. He just couldn't.

Stiles texted him later with a _You okay?_

Derek never dignified it with a reply.


	3. Chapter 3

The next night came, and for the first time since it started, the dream changed. It was still a nightmare he'd had before, of the night his family burned inside the house. Just like before, he was outside, watching in horror. Laura held him back, because there was nothing he could do- nothing either of them could do but watch.

The difference was that _Stiles was in there, too_. He was screaming, begging for Derek, and Derek could do nothing. Because suddenly it wasn't his sister holding him back, it was Chris and Kate and Peter and though Derek fought against them, there was nothing he could do but howl in anguish as his _mate burned to a crisp._

Derek snapped awake with sweat on his brow and tears in his eyes and fear in his heart. And more than anything, a fierce need to protect.

Instead of getting up, Derek squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over as the hot tears escaped. He buried his face in his pillow and stayed silent as more and more tears came without his permission. He hadn't cried since he was a child. He didn't even cry that night, when the flames had licked at the sky and screams permeated the night.

But now he did. It was over fast, thank god. Derek lay with his face in his pillow and salty tears all over his face as he tried to catch his breath. He didn't understand why he'd cried just now. It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense as to why _Stiles_ was in his dreams and why he was Derek's mate in said dreams.

He didn't understand and he was scared and there was nowhere to go. Derek went back to sleep, forced himself to. He couldn't loiter outside Stiles' room until everything was okay again. It was creepy and stalker-ish and all kinds of unhealthy and Derek really shouldn't- fuck it. He needed to make sure Stiles was okay.

So he drove over, his body still shaking. He didn't stay outside this time. He slipped his fingers under the sill and slid it up. Silently, he came in. Stiles was sleeping deeply. Derek was glad for that, and walked over to the bed, crouching down and looking at Stiles' face.

He was drooling a little, the blanket slipping down his waist. Derek, without even thinking, gently thumbed away the drool and wiped it on his jeans before tugging the blanket back up to Stiles' chest.

Derek knew what was happening. He was starting to think of Stiles as his dreams dictated to him. As his mate. He knew he shouldn't. But it wasn't like he'd chosen, though. If he had a choice, he wouldn't be with anybody. At least, not anybody he knew currently.

Stiles didn't even like him. Stiles was scared of him. Which he was (mostly) okay with. And he was _human_. Not that his wolf cared. It wanted Stiles. And it would not be satisfied until it got him.

Derek sat back, Indian style as he watched Stiles sleep. He thought about Stiles' merits, everything that had happened with him. He'd reacted pretty damn good to the werewolf thing. He was still friends with Scott, still welcomed Derek into his home. And he helped the pack. Kept them safe with information and if someone needed help, they came to Stiles. He was already the den mother, practically.

And he was strong. He didn't have to be a wolf for that. He was strong and for all his jokes he had a lot of common sense.

Not to mention how attractive he was.

Derek glanced away and then back. Stiles was still asleep. A few touches, just to assure himself, that wouldn't hurt. Right? Derek held his breath and reached out, fingers brushing Stiles' sleepwarm cheek. He didn't even stir. Derek's lips twitched in an almost-smile, and then he stood. Time to go. He couldn't stay here- Stiles would wake, and it already took the kid long enough to get to sleep in the first place.

This became the new nightly ritual. In his dreams, Stiles would be burning. Derek would wake, fear increasing each night, and would run to the Stilinski household to see Stiles' sleeping form, or hear his voice, and know he was okay.

Sometimes Stiles wasn't there, which had Derek running all over town to find him. He wouldn't be going so crazy if the dreams weren't so real, if the fear wasn't so palpable. If the possibility of losing Stiles like that was not so likely. He ran with wolves- more than once, his life had been put in danger. Maybe one of those times he wouldn't be able to get out of it.

And with every passing dream, with every passing day, Derek couldn't deny that he was becoming more and more attached to Stiles. When he saw Stiles at pack meetings, his gaze would linger. He'd find excuses to get angry so he could shove or nudge or something, _anything_ to touch Stiles.

Thankfully, none of this was seen as anything out of the norm.

At some point, the dreams changed. Derek wished he could pinpoint the actual night. He knew his wolf was trying to tell him that now was the time to claim Stiles, to do it now, but all he wanted to do was avoid him. It was that or- well.

_Fuck me, Derek- please, _please_, need you so bad-_

Derek shook himself.

Yeah. Or that.

Nevermind how _unhelpful_ his body was being. There was a hot itch under his skin. The need to dominate was pounding in his head. There was nothing to do about his heat except wait it out or get Stiles in his bed.

Naturally, Derek chose the first option. He curled up on his couch and didn't even touch himself, knowing the burning would be relieved only to come back even more ferociously. So he trembled to himself on the couch, the scent of his own lust infecting the air around him.

What he wasn't expecting was for someone to come looking for him the second day of his heat.

He heard the jeep trundle up and groaned softly to himself. Stiles… If Stiles came in right now, safety and his agreement to being fucked went right out the window. Derek wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking Stiles. He had a great deal of self control, but it wasn't exactly in abundance recently.

Derek curled up tighter on his couch, his knees up to his chest and his arms tucked up with his fists under his chin. It was easier this way. A knock on his door. Derek closed his eyes and his shaking intensified. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Stiles would go away. Derek hadn't caught his scent yet, maybe he could fool his body into being clueless as to Stiles' whereabouts.

"I know you're around here somewhere, Derek!" Derek winced as the burning under his skin became an inferno. "If you don't appear, I'm gonna let myself in and wait for you!"

Derek bit his lip. Stiles waited a heartbeat and then came in. Before Derek knew it, Stiles was in front of him, looking at him through concerned eyes.

"I told you to stay away." Derek barked. He didn't know if he actually had or not, but he wasn't lingering on that thought long enough to realize his mistake.

"I knew you looked weird." Stiles muttered. "What's happening to you?"

"Heat." Derek relinquished reluctantly.

"You… Actually get that?" Stiles asked dubiously.

"Yes, I actually get that." Derek snapped. Stiles needed to leave- the wolf had caught his scent and it was probably too late anyway.

"Uh. Okay. Any way I can, uh, help?" Stiles asked.

"You can let me screw you." Holy shit did he just actually say that?

Judging by the shocked look on Stiles' face, yes. Yes he did. Derek almost wanted to hide his face in his knees. His eyes darted to Stiles' throat, tracking the movement of his swallow and then returning to his face. Derek was taken over by a bout of shivers, and he curled in on himself tighter to try and be still.

Stiles was on the couch beside him now.

"Would you say that to anybody else if they were in my position?" Stiles asked seriously.

Derek whimpered and leaned away. He didn't want this. He was going to end up hurting Stiles and he really didn't want that.

"Probably." He gasped finally. Stiles looked heartbroken but like he was trying to cover it up. "But I wouldn't mean it. Not like I do now.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

Derek groaned. He was going to start dry humping Stiles. Seriously. This was beyond humiliating.

"I mean the heat makes me want to screw someone, anyone, but I wanted you anyway and Jesus, Stiles, do something or leave because I'm not doing too good on control here." Derek forced out, closing his eyes as his body made him hyperaware of his hard cock.

"Okay, okay." Stiles took a deep breath. "I just- I've never-"

"Then leave." Stiles didn't move. "_Leave_, Stiles!" Derek didn't want to be a mindless fucking machine for Stiles' first time. Stiles deserved way better than that.

"I'll call you." Stiles promised quickly, heading out.

Derek closed his eyes and didn't say anything. He was so restraining himself from following Stiles. Time passed- he didn't know how long, but his cell phone rang. He almost didn't answer. But it was the ringtone Stiles had set for himself and Derek couldn't ignore him.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, confused.

"Put me on speaker, Derek. I'm going to help you." Stiles sounded breathless.

Derek swallowed, licking at his lip as he obeyed and put the phone on the coffee table. He was too crazy with heat to do anything else.

"Okay." He said hesitantly, voice a little hoarse.

"What hand do you jerk off with?" Stiles asked.

"Right." Derek was starting to understand what was happening here. "Stiles, you don't have to- I'll be fine."

"I want to. Now shut up and listen to me." Derek would have growled any other day. But now he just sucked in a breath and waited. "Are you still all curled up?"

"No- sitting up." Derek's eyes were locked on the phone. He couldn't help it.

"Okay. Grind your palm down on your cock. Slowly, through your jeans."

Derek groaned as his hand made contact right where Stiles wanted it and groaned again as his hand obeyed Stiles instead of him and kept firm and slow. Pleasure was shooting up his spine, and he spread his legs wide for comfort, puffing out his breaths.

"Like that, Derek, good." Stiles' voice was soothing and encouraging- deeper than normal, yes, but it helped. "Can you imagine? What if I'd stayed? What if I'd let you crawl over me, pin me down onto the couch so I can't run." Derek's breath hitched and his head fell back with a whine. "Remember, Derek, _slow_."

Derek growled but obeyed, lightening his hand.

"Or maybe you'd like it if I ran." Stiles continued. "So you could chase me down, tackle me like you shove me. I know how much you like doing that. And I'd want that. In your house, you heavy over me, your hard cock grinding into my ass."

Derek choked, hips thrusting up into his palm helplessly. He didn't feel entirely in control of himself.

"It's okay, Derek, it's okay. Take your cock out now. Want your fist like you'd normally have it, and slow, okay?" Stiles sounded nervous but determined. Derek wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a low moan as he shoved his jeans down enough to expose himself and took his cock in hand.

"I'd want you to take me, Derek. Hard and fast, so I can feel you when it's over. I'd be so tight for you, Derek. Nobody else has ever had me- it'd be only you. Can you imagine? I don't want you to use a condom. I just want it to be you, so I can feel you, all of you. I'd squeeze around you, hold you in for as long as I could."

Derek's hand was getting faster on his dick, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. He arched off the couch, trying to press himself into someone that wasn't there.

"Stiles-" He whined. "Stiles, fuck, Stiles-" Derek never babbled like this during sex. Barely spoke at all. But his heat was a completely different story.

"Exactly. You close, Derek?" Stiles asked, eager.

"Mmhm." Derek was writhing, needing to move, needing faster.

"I'd want you to come in me. Want to be yours. Want to hear you say it, Derek."

"Mine." Derek snarled with a ferocity that surprised even himself.

"Yess." Stiles hissed. "Come for me, Derek. Know you can. Come, Derek."

Derek howled when he came, his whole body going taught before falling limp. He gasped for air, hands resting on his thighs as he slumped into the couch. He felt dazed. For the first time, his heat was held at bay. Derek's eyes were eventually drawn back to his phone.

"Stiles?" He questioned hoarsely.

"Yeah?" Stiles was out of breath. Derek could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

"If you're a virgin, how the _hell_ did you manage that?"

"I've watched a lot of pornos. And I know you. Maybe better than you think I do." He said timidly.

"… Oh." His brain didn't have the sophistication needed for a better response yet. Derek made an uncomfortable noise as he cleaned himself up quickly and grabbed his phone. He took a deep breath. "Do you really want that, Stiles?" He asked haltingly.

"Yeah." Came the answer after a long pause.

"Because there's no going back. For me. If you want it to be over, it'll- it'll be over for you, but not me." Derek swallowed. "I know it sounds selfish, but you should know what you'd be walking into." Derek closed his eyes. He still hadn't gotten his breath back. "There's more- more to it, but I can't really think right now."

"I'm that good, huh?" Derek could hear the smirk.

"Ego check, Stiles. It's the heat." He growled.

"Oh yeah, sure." Stiles scoffed. "I have my own mess to clean up here, so I'm gonna let you go." Stiles' voice did sound wrecked. Derek smirked to himself.

"See ya." He hung up, deciding that that was simultaneously the weirdest and best experience of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday had Derek finally breathing easy, his heat leaving him as he laid in bed. He curled up on top of the sheets, careful of his chaffed and very, _very_ sensitive dick. And he slept. There were no dreams, just blessed, wonderful sleep.

When he awoke, it was to his ringing phone. Derek answered, yawning.

"What is it?" He asked. He hadn't even checked the ID.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Pack meeting tonight, or did you forget?" Stiles teased. It wasn't even morning. He sounded like he was eating something.

"Whose bright idea was that again?" Derek groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to clean this place up, badly.

"Uhhh, yours? I'm coming over there- my dad's kicking me out of the house and Scott's with Allison." Stiles said matter-of-factly.

"Shit- alright. I need to clean up." Derek mumbled, mostly to himself.

"I'll help." Stiles offered.

"Uh…" Derek cleared his throat, looking around at the used tissues. And this was only his bedroom. Downstairs was worse. Way worse.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before. Scott had his heat right after yours. Lasted shorter. He forced me to help him clean up before his mom saw." Stiles took another bite of whatever it was he was eating. "I still have a ton of questions about that. I don't know if you know, but everybody else has hit their heat, too. Except for, y'know, us humans."

Derek was cleaning as he listened to Stiles, taking in every word. He moved gingerly, wincing each time his dick brushed the inside of his sweatpants. He was sore everywhere, too, which also sucked because there was nothing his healing could do about it. At some point, Stiles stopped talking and they shared a companionable silence as Derek dragged his trash can downstairs and found a broom. He hadn't broken any furniture, miraculously, and the surfaces weren't soiled too badly.

"Alright, I'm pulling in the driveway, so I'm hanging up." Stiles announced.

Derek flipped his phone shut without a word and threw it on the couch so he could sweep with two hands.

Stiles knocked before coming in, shutting the door behind him before whistling at the sate of the entryway.

"I'm guessing it _was _worse, huh?" He asked after following the sound of bristles against wood.

"You wouldn't exactly be winning a prize." Derek smirked a little.

"If it weren't for that teeny tiny smile, I'd never be able to tell if you're joking. Or that you actually have a heart." Stiles said, overly fond.

He succeeded in causing Derek to scowl.

Stiles laughed and took the broom from him, kicking the dustpan into a good position on the floor and bracing it with his foot as he swept.

"Go take a shower, _Sourwolf_. You look like you could use it." Stiles nudge him playfully with the broom handle. "I've got this."

Derek opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it, shaking his head with a sigh and going to do as he was told.

The water was hot and soothing on his muscles. Not so soothing when it reached his groin, but Derek did his best to ignore it. He washed quickly, getting redressed in his softest sweatpants and one of his tanktops.

It was then that he smelled the scent of food cooking. He made his way downstairs, confused but realizing he was _starving_.

Stiles was down in the kitchen, cooking on the one hotplate Derek had until he got around to fixing up the kitchen.

"You didn't have to-"

"Jesus Christ!" Stiles jumped. Violently. Thankfully, nothing went flying.

"Sorry. But you didn't have to do this." Any of it. Derek emerged from lurking around the corner of the doorway and towards that delicious scent. It was making his mouth water despite himself.

"_Jeeez,_ Derek." Stiles was getting his breath back. Derek could hear his heart jackhammering in his chest. It made him smile a little. "I wanted to." Stiles said when he regained himself. "And you looked like you needed it. So eat." Stiles dished up the chili and actually watched Derek to make sure he ate all of it. "And warn a guy next time."

Derek rolled his eyes and said nothing.

By the time they cleaned up the dinner things (for indeed, now it was dark out), the pack had started to arrive. Derek sat down on the couch, because he really couldn't take anymore walking around and Stiles kept giving him this _look_ while he went to go open the door.

Over the time that they'd been a pack, the others had all dragged in new furniture to sit on while Derek made the house fit to be lived in. Bean bags, two mismatching armchairs, a new coffee table and couch. Even a rug. Derek was on said new couch.

Stiles made the mistake of walking passed Derek one too many times, until Derek finally reached out and dragged him down into his lap.

"What- Derek, what're you-" Stiles squawked.

"You're doing too many things. Take a break. And it helps." He rubbed Stiles' stomach, urging him to lean back and relax against Derek.

In truth, the heat of Stiles' body didn't really help at all; an ice pack would be better, but he made a really nice blanket and Derek exhaled softly as he went limp under the comforting weight. When everyone was gathered, Derek took inventory. He could tell by the look of them which ones had gone through torture week- for them it was probably more like three days- and who hadn't. Erica didn't seem to have yet, which was unsurprising.

"So what's this all about?" Scott broke the silence first.

"It's called heat." Derek explained. "For you, it will come more often than it will for an Alpha, like more, or for a girl, like Erica." Derek sighed. "You won't have much control. You're not supposed to. It's meant for mating." Derek felt Stiles shift on top of him and covered up a wince. "Stop moving. Anyway, it's nothing to be afraid of or dread, so long as you keep track of it."

Derek tried to answer other questions, but there wasn't much else he could answer. Heat was simple. Annoying as fuck, but simple. The pack dissolved into small talk and gossip, but it was done as a group. Everyone had something to say. They laughed.

Derek hadn't felt this comfortable in a group of people in a long time. Somehow, this motley crew of outsiders, insiders, and inbetweeners had all come together and made a pack. A family. Humans and wolves alike.

Derek relaxed, his arms loose around Stiles' waist. Stiles was moving, always moving, but more with his hands and chest so as not to bother Derek. He was warm, comfortingly heavy. And he smelled like mate, even though phone sex didn't count in the biological identification of a mate. At least, Derek didn't think it did. He closed his eyes to better focus on the sounds of his pack around him, and before he knew it, he was asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Jackson was the one who noticed first.

"Derek. Hey, Derek. … Is he asleep, Stiles?" A dubious look.

"I think so." Stiles shrugged. "Let him sleep. I woke him up when I came here. He's probably exhausted." He snickered.

They fell back into easy conversation, occasionally glancing at their alpha. Derek's head was lolling on the back of the couch, his arms loosely wrapped around Stiles' waist, his fingertips barely touching each other in the teen's lap. Derek looked… Not at peace, exactly, but not as troubled as when he was awake.

It wasn't much longer after that the twitching started. Stiles brushed it off as a (cute) werewolf thing- like when animals run in their dreams, they twitch. But it was Isaac who recognized it for what it really was.

"Guys, he's- he's having a nightmare." Isaac pointed out, half out of his seat.

Stiles twisted, looking over his shoulder. Derek looked to be in pain.

"Derek- Derek, wake up. _Derek_." Stiles tried nudging him.

It wasn't that easy. Of course it wasn't that easy. Isaac came to him sometimes with nightmares, and it was never easy for Stiles to wake him, so why should it be easy for him to wake Derek?

"Guys, come on, puppy pile." Stiles declared, carefully turning sideways in Derek's lap.

Isaac responded, curling up on the couch and pressing himself tightly to Derek's side, Stiles' legs thrown over his own. Erica followed, sitting on the arm of the couch and sandwiching Derek between herself and Isaac. Everyone else hesitated.

"He's done the same for all of you when you were hurt- get your furry werewolf butts over here." Stiles chastised. Derek's arms tightened around him and he tried to sooth the alpha by rubbing his forearms.

Boyd took a seat by Derek's feet, resting his chin on Derek's knee and watching his face as he pressed up close to Derek's shin. Jackson took the other leg in the same way. Lydia sat between them, her hands delicately on Derek's ankles. Scott and Allison draped themselves over the back of the couch, each of them with a hand on one of Derek's shoulders and the other hesitantly in his hair.

The pack held their breath, all watching their pack leader intently, wondering what was to happen now.

Derek's breathing was fast, too fast, and though Stiles couldn't hear it, he could see Derek's heart pounding in the racing of his pulsepoint.

"Derek, it's okay. It's okay, we're here, we're all here." Stiles couldn't not say anything.

A quiet, strangled whimper escaped Derek's throat. Scott squeezed his shoulder and Stiles kept his soothing touch on Derek's forearms. There was a pregnant moment where everyone and everything was still. And then Derek's eyes snapped open, his claws and fangs making an appearance.

"St- Wh-" Derek was obviously confused, looking around at everyone before landing on Isaac, who was having a little bit of a freakout.

Derek leaned over, knocking his and Isaac's heads together gently, affectionately.

"It's okay. I'm okay." He was telling everyone, not just Isaac, even as he tried to regain his breath.

Derek made it a point to touch everyone, holding Isaac's hand, putting a hand each on Boyd's and Jackson's heads. He touched Lydia's fingers, and gently rubbed Erica's knee. He reached behind him, ruffling Scott's hair a little bit and affectionately brushing Allison's chin. He saved Stiles for last, wrapping his arms around the human and leaning his forehead on Stiles' shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine. Just… Haven't been sleeping much." Derek sighed.

Isaac stayed curled against Derek's side, while the others drifted back to their own seats, but the conversation seemed to have mostly come to an end. Derek wrapped a comforting arm around the curly-haired teen's shoulders, knowing that he wasn't quite okay yet. Stiles smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Everyone slowly trickled homeward. Isaac only left after Derek spoke to him privately. Stiles didn't mind waiting. Isaac looked much happier after, anyway.

"What'd you say to him?" Stiles asked as Derek stood with him on the dark porch, both of them with their hands in their pockets because it was a little chilly out here at night. Somewhere, Derek had picked up his jacket.

"That they were only dreams. They shouldn't be ignored, but I can't let them consume me, either." Derek said, watching Isaac pull out and drive away. "And that he was safe with us. He has a pack now. And even Jackson would come, if Isaac needed him to."

Stiles was grinning.

"What?" Derek asked, almost accusingly.

"You're cute when you sleep. Except for the nightmares bit." Stiles teased.

Derek growled warningly.

"_And_… You're a good alpha, even if you don't think so." Stiles' smile softened.

"Oh, you think so, huh?" Derek snorted.

"I know so."

They stood there in silence, neither one having anything good to say but neither one of them wanting to say goodbye either.

A beep from inside Stiles' pocket.

"My dad." Stiles explained, but he didn't take his phone out to check the message.

"You gonna get that?" Derek rose an eyebrow.

"Nope." Stiles popped the P at the end.

More standing. Waiting. Stiles didn't know what for until Derek leaned down, closing his eyes, and kissed him softly on the lips.

It was innocent- no tongue, no hands, just soft, quiet affection. Stiles hummed as Derek pulled away, a smile spreading slowly across his face.

"What?" But Derek was grinning.

Stiles noticed that he always looked surprised at himself when he smiled, and faintly guilty. It was the same when he managed to laugh in that barking way of his. Stiles loved making it happen.

"Can we do that again?" Stiles asked hopefully.

Derek took his hands out of his pockets, knocking Stiles' out of his and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist.

"I'm sure-" He tugged Stiles close. "-we can-" Derek put their foreheads together. "- figure something out." His voice had lowered to a murmur.

Stiles initiated, sealing their lips together. He was inexperienced, but Derek didn't mind. It was Stiles, his mate, and everything about him made Derek's blood boil in the best way.

They kept it slow, drawing out the time they had. Stiles' hands ended up on Derek's cheeks and then in his hair, and Derek hadn't felt alive until now. He broke the kiss, mouthing down Stiles' jaw, pushing aside his jacket and shirt collars before finding the juncture between Stiles' neck and shoulder.

He might be being a little hasty now, but he had to make Stiles his. Or at least claim him until they could really do something. Stiles smelled a little nervous, and Derek backed up a hair. Okay. No hickeys, then.

"Hold still." Derek murmured, more like a request than a demand.

Stiles made a garbled sound that Derek took as agreement. He tilted Stiles' chin up with his fingers gently and licked at Stiles' neck. The teen started to laugh, but otherwise held still. Derek couldn't help but be amused. He didn't understand how this tickled, nor how someone could go from nervousness into gaiety so quickly. But he was glad. He liked Stiles scared of him, but not all the time.

Derek finished, deciding that Stiles smelled enough like him to keep anyone else away. Stiles was _his_, dammit, and everybody was going to know it, one way or another. Not that any of the pack would even think about it, even without Derek's scent on Stiles. They all had someone, after all, with the exception of Isaac. And yes, the pack were the only wolves around- the only wolves seen in Beacon Hills for a long, long time, but something deep in Derek, something primal and base and dark tells him to mark Stiles anyway.

"What- what was that for?" Stiles asked, still laughing a little.

"Now you smell like me." Derek murmured, the barest hint of pride in his voice.

"Oh. You're so weird." Stiles snickered. "But I like weird. I'm weird, too. We should be weird together."

"Don't forget corny." Derek rolled his eyes.

An angry beep from Stiles' pocket.

"Go home, Stiles." Derek nudged him. "Get some rest."

Stiles bit his lip and then kissed Derek once more before running to his Jeep, pulling out his phone to read the messages on the way. Derek watched until he couldn't see the Jeep anymore, listened until he couldn't hear it. And then he went back inside, feeling warm like he hadn't for years.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few weeks, they fell into a rhythm as a couple. If they could be described like that. It was in the way they were around each other, the easy relaxation that came when they spent time together. Stiles could talk and Derek never had to say anything at all. Stiles didn't mind, because though it wasn't easy to pull a string of sentences from the alpha, Stiles found himself learning about Derek in other ways.

Like his (favorable) reaction to Stiles wearing red. And how acutely aware of Stiles Derek was all the time. When Stiles forgot his jacket, Derek let him borrow the leather one that Derek always were. Didn't say a word, just passed it over and then commented that it was a good look for him after he put it on.

And Derek's strange (but cute) fascination with butterflies. Stiles had seen him distracted by them more than once, and at one point had quietly walked in upon him sitting cross-legged in a patch of sunlight on the floor in a dusty room of the Hale house, one hand on his knee, the other with his elbow resting on his other knee, and a butterfly held carefully aloft on his fingers. Admittedly, Derek had been frowning. But the golden sunlight kissed his skin and played through his dark hair, lighting the wolf from above and behind. Stiles didn't think Derek noticed him, too deep in though, so he'd backed out and left.

Stiles learned ,therefore, that he couldn't always take Derek at face value. Whereas he himself hid under a mask of chatter, Derek cloaked himself in silence. He was better at showing Stiles how much he cared, rather than saying the words. Which was just fine with Stiles, because he knew.

That wasn't to say Derek was quiet all the time. Sometimes had peaceful moments of conversation, short though they may be, there was dark active participation from the Sourwolf.

Derek liked accosting him in any way possible and kissing him senseless. Which Stiles liked also- he liked it a lot. But it happened enough that Scott started to ask why Stiles allowed him to do it.

The answer to that was simple. It was because of the Fight. Capitalized, because it stood out so clearly in his mind.

The Fight happened after a pack meeting one night. Stiles thought he was being treated too much like an object and confronted Derek about it.

Derek was kissing him again, up against the wall in the livingroom. It was good- it was always good kissing Derek. But the insecurity came to the surface. As it always did. After all, how could someone so blatantly awesome as Derek like or be attracted to someone so blatantly not-awesome as Stiles? Stiles pushed at Derek's shoulders.

"Derek- Derek wait." Stiles mumbled.

Derek pulled back, an eyebrow raised. Not in an 'excuse you, bitch?' way, as Stiles had once thought, but in a confused and vaguely worried way.

"I- would you stop kissing me?" Stiles asked, kind of a demand.

"I did." Derek's brows furrowed, confused.

"Not like that. I mean, just shoving me up wherever you want me and whenever you want me." Stiles wrenched away from Derek, trying to get equal footing.

"I thought you liked it." Derek said, suspiciously accusing.

Stiles met his eyes. Derek was human, yes, but the wolf was in there and Stiles would make them both understand that he was putting his foot down. Derek instantly bristled when Stiles didn't look away, stiffening and growling warningly.

"Well I don't. Not like that."

Derek's growling got louder, but Stiles was silent. He wasn't afraid. There was a time where he would have shit his pants at this confrontation, but now he was confident that even pissed off, Derek would not hurt him.

"Out." Derek snarled.

Stiles always noticed when the wolf was in more control that Derek was. His voice changed- not by much, but it was there. Stiles put his nose in the air and left.

After he was gone, Derek paced. And paced. And paced. HE shouldn't have snapped like that. Not at Stiles. Because Stiles was human and while Derek was hyperaware of how fragile he was in comparison, he forgot sometimes that Stiles didn't think like a wolf. Of course he would see Derek's actions the way he did. And as distraught over it as he was, Derek couldn't help but be proud of his mate's strength.

But Stiles hadn't texted him or anything and Derek had a feeling that he was the one who was supposed to apologize. But he didn't know how.

Which found him at Stiles' house, crawling in through the window silently. The lights were all on, and Stiles was sitting at his computer, apparently not seeing Derek come in.

"Stiles?" Derek questioned, voice quiet because he wasn't _trying_ to scare Stiles but he usually ended up doing that anyway.

"Holy sh- can't you knock?!" Stiles yelped, spinning around and clutching his chest.

Derek ducked his head, hands in his pockets. He felt horrible, and he didn't even know why anymore. He'd meant to just come and apologize and explain himself, but now, being in front of Stiles, all he wanted to do was grovel and beg for forgiveness.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked finally, concern tinting his voice.

Derek shrugged, kept his eyes down.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat nervously. "I should not have assumed." Derek's fists clenched his pockets. "I'm not used to… this. What we have. But that's an excuse. Anyway…"

Stiles took a moment to take him in. Toe examine Derek. He looked like a dog with its tail between its legs. And he realized that of course Derek was the way he was. It wasn't like he had anyone to ask for pointers. And Stiles had mostly forgiven him anyway. He couldn't stay mad at Derek.

"Come here." He said finally, holding out his arms with a wry, amused smile.

Stiles wasn't expecting Derek to come forward, go down on his knees, and wrap his arms around Stiles' waist. He breathed evenly as Derek nuzzled his stomach and settled, petting Derek's hair and wondering what was wrong _now_ but unwilling to force Derek to say anything.

Derek never spoke up, but Stiles was okay with that. They fell into Stiles' bed at some point, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs and smash of bodies but that was okay, even if it wasn't exactly graceful.

So Stiles' answer, when Scott asked why he let Derek do whatever he pleased, was this-

"Because I can make him do whatever I want."

Not that he'd ever let the Sourwolf hear that. He doubted it would endear him to Derek at all. So it was a secret.


End file.
